THE HUNT
43
trooped up from the hotel. Hub Hone led them. Old Hone
swung open the door shaking a big loose smoked-looking fist.
Saddler shouted hoarsely, "Firkin reports Hub to the gov–
ernment. Had a 400-pound stag, last hog in the pen, and Hub
sold it without paying no tax. So Firkin reports. We got hog
wardens now too."
-
The little red headed postmaster came out, a haylouse of
a man getting into everybody's hide. He waved a letter from the
office of the internal revenue. "I'm adoing my duty.
It
says: It
has come to the attention of this office that there are numerous
violations in regard to the hog processing tax law and this of–
fice wishes your cooperation in transmitting information as to
such violations that come
to
your attention."
"Spy pigeon," roared the farmers.
Old Hone hacked out, "He's only a huckleberry in a hog's
ass. It's that Rosyvelt behind him.
If
I had a barrel stave, I'd
get
to
him. Will his hide sell for more than ours that he's
lording it over on us? He's adriving us, that godly guy, even
how to cut our women."
Firkin barked out, "I'm adoing my duty." And he whipped
back behind a counter. A rotten apple whizzed across the store
and burst in his face. He grabbed a huge cleaver and swung it
at them. Gordon made a leap for him. The farmers surged
forward, backed out, and carried both of them out with them.
Firkin slipped from under them and trotted down the icy street.
Gordon burst after him. Old Hone was lying on the ice with
his legs spread out like the shaft of a wagon. Mrs. Firkin, a
cheese pumpkin of a woman, cracked open yelling for help.
Hub walked toward the postmaster with one hand out.
Firkin swung the cleaver over his head.
Gordon moved behind a tree, measured the distance to the
little man who kept backing away from Hub, and kicked. He
caught him in the wrist. The cleaver flew off across the street.
The postmaster dropped
to
his knees. He rode his arm blurting
and swivelling fiercely on the ice.
The farmers came up lugging old Hone. Hub said, "Better
come along with us." Gordon shook his head. He walked to
the truck. He drove to the farm.
All the rest of the day and next morning Gordon felt as
though a load had been slashed off his back. He grinned down
at his wooden foot, "Come in handy, heh, old boy?"
